The Best Thing
by esquilo-negligenciadas
Summary: A series of musical coincidences at poignant moments leads Eric to make a shamefully stupid inference, and once started, not even Pam can save him from his shoddy arguments. An entry for "I Write the Songs."


I Write The Songs . CONTEST ENTRY

TITLE: The Best Thing, or Eric Northman Commits the Texas Sharpshooter Fallacy

CHARACTERS: Eric mostly, with cameos by Sookie, Bill, Pam, and Victor

DISCLAIMER: The characters, situations, and an occasional line of dialogue below do not belong to me, as they are property Ms. Charlaine Harris. The songs are written/performed by Savage Garden and copyright either 1997 EMI Blackwood Music Inc. or 1999 Sony Music Entertainment Inc.

PEN NAME: esquilo-negligenciadas

BETA NAME: makesmyheadspin

WRITER STATUS: Recently deflowered

TEASER: A series of musical coincidences at poignant moments leads Eric to make a shamefully stupid inference, and once started, not even Pam can save him from his shoddy arguments.

Author's Note: I would like to thank makesmyheadspin profusely for her help, commentary, and reassurance that I hadn't lost the funny; the short title comes at her suggestion, and if you want more explanation for the long title, I suggest directing your browser here: http:/ youarenotsosmart (dot) com/ 2010/ 09/ 11/ the-texas-sharpshooter-fallacy/

* * *

I love making money-it's especially pleasing after centuries of scraping by and stealing from my food. Nonetheless, there is something terribly boring about sitting out on the floor to be ogled, even if it is profitable. Not that I mind being ogled, but never before have I done the same thing so many nights in row; it's dull. I'd taken to ignoring them all equally and distracting myself through various means, some of which were quite dull in and of themselves. Tonight, I'd brought my iPod with me and was listening to it while monitoring the club via intermittant text messages to Pam and Long Shadow.

I was just settling into a good long period of uninterrupted disdain for Fangtasia's patrons when the tones emanating from my earbuds switched from some pleasing music in old Swedish to an upbeat monstrosity from the late 1990s, for which Pam was no doubt to blame. I cast my gaze toward her, manning the door, just in time to see Bill Compton walk in with a delicious blonde in a white dress. She was a vision of innocence in a sea of black, and I couldn't help but follow them across the room as they stopped at the bar, loitering while she showed something to Long Shadow.

_Come__ stand__ a __little __bit __closer  
Breathe__ in__ and__ get__ a__ bit __higher  
You__'__ll__ never __know __what __hit __you  
When__ I__ get__ to__ you_

Odd, how the vapid popular music seemed to echo my own thoughts. The chorus, too, seemed to describe my reaction to her. In light of this development, I decided to ignore Pam's meddling for the time being and focus instead on the woman who'd come in with Compton-she couldn't be Compton's woman, not with that much distance between them, and if she wasn't Compton's woman, she was fair game. I managed to suppress a smile at the thought and set about enticing her from his side.

~~^v^~~

As I pulled away from the smoldering remains of the cabin, I couldn't help but watch Sookie walk with Compton through the woods to his car, and I found myself having to restrain my anger. I wasn't going to ruin my steering wheel for her, no matter how fantastic she tasted. I'd been so close-she'd nearly yielded. _Fucking__ Bill__ Compton_. I'd known he was there-heard him drive up-but I'd been counting on Sookie's inability to resist. No matter; it was only an issue of time. I flicked on the stereo, then nearly put my hand through it when the sounds that issued forth were the straining near-falsetto vocals of that ridiculous Australian that Pam had put on my iPod. On a hunch, I checked the stereo's readout; it was the radio, which meant Pam had been driving my Corvette while I was in Dallas.

_Move__. __Closer__. __Passion__. __Stronger__.  
There__'__s__ a __magic__ only __two __can __tell  
In__ the __dark __night  
Ultra__violet __is __a __wicked __spell  
The __stars __and__ planets __taking __shape  
A__ stolen __kiss __has __come __too __late_

The radio was taunting me. Too late, indeed. It was never too late to entice her away from that Confederate pansy. That was a problem for another night, though. For now, I had an errant child to punish. I pulled onto the highway, glad to be away from the narrow tracks that passed as roads in Bon Temps, and gunned it back to Fangtasia.

~~^v^~~

"But I'd be happier with no one than I am now."

I was tempted to argue that point, but when Sookie turned away from me to stare blankly out the window, I decided to let it be. I couldn't help but wonder if she would be this inclined to run when she was mine; she'd dodged my question, which seemed to confirm the theory. She certainly appeared prone to avoidance techniques. It was incredibly frustrating, and if she followed this pattern with me it would take great strength of will to deal with her. Fortunately, I was lacking in neither will nor formidable calm, and given enough time I'd be able to break her of the habit. Likely she would never heel well, but that was part of the appeal, in addition to the beautiful packaging. That and her...intoxicating flavor. A flavor which likely extended everywhere, given the consistency between her blood and her delicious mouth.

Why did I even care whether she makes a habit of running from rocky situations? Surely the attraction was primarily in the chase and her resistance, so this predilection would prove amusing once she was mine. And yet, I couldn't help but think that it wouldn't be, that I would rather she be happy with me, in addition to very well sexed. The whole business stank of feelings, and I didn't like it. A vampire of my age should not have this problem.

I maneuvered the Lincoln around a pathetically slow Dodge of some kind, catching a snatch of the blaring radio as I passed through the slipstream.

_Fascination __casts__ a__ spell __and  
you __become__ more __than __just__ a__ mystery  
And__ I __think__ about__ you __all __the__ time_

How annoyingly appropriate. I didn't think about her _all_ of the time, but far more often than I'd like. Pam was starting to notice, and that was never a good sign-not only did it mean that I was bordering on obsessive, it also meant she would start harassing me about it, and that she'd probably get Chow and Clancy in on it, since they were nestmates, and even though they didn't enjoy the same level of protection from my wrath. I would have to think up a suitable distraction to keep them occupied while I set about securing Sookie for myself.

The matter settled, I relaxed into driving and the amusement to be derived from weaving around the inferior human traffic. Eventually, though, the gas tank ran low and I was forced to pull off the highway. Sookie, ever the Southern belle, offered to pump the gas for me, but I refused on the basis that it would allow me to think about her without her intoxicating presence to distract me. She took a long time in the station's toilet, so I was able to finish filling the tank and was on my way in to pay when the net dropped over me, tossed by two fools. I growled, and one of them hit me in the back of the head. By the time I'd recovered my senses, I was in the back of their truck, mercifully still in the parking lot, and I set to work pulling the silver mesh off of me. As I landed on the ground below, there was but one thought on my mind: that woman and her exquisite curves were going to be the death of me.

~~^v^~~

When I woke, Sookie was again out of the house. Like the day before, she'd left a note; today it was next to the phone and told me she was at work, though it was disguised to look like her employer had called for her to fill in for someone. She was clever, and cared enough that she didn't want me to worry, which made me glad that it had been her road. Not to mention the other reasons. The note also told me when she would be returning, and as it was not for several hours, I switched on the television, keeping the volume very low and the curtains drawn so it would be less obvious that anyone was in the house.

As a distraction from my thoughts, which bounced between memories of Sookie and panic over how little else I could remember, the television was highly effective. After only a few channels, I found some sort of reminiscent pop culture show which was discussing _Buffy __the __Vampire __Slayer_. The commentary was both hilarious and highly inaccurate, though the inaccuracies were probably due to misinformation campaigns by vampires. At least, that is what I would do.

The next several segments were of little consequence, but after a couple of commercial breaks, the cut-rate comedians and has-been actors (as it was becoming increasingly obvious these panelists were) started going into spasms of joy apparently induced by the opening notes of some pop song, followed by a disorienting series of short clips of several people singing along with the high-voiced frontman, to varying degrees of accuracy. The whole business hurt my ears, and I was about to turn the annoying thing off when they played a clip of the video, this time without accompaniment.

_And__ I __want __to __stand __with__ you __on __a __mountain  
I__ want __to __bathe __with __you __in __the __sea  
I__ want __to __lay __like __this __forever  
Until__ the __sky __falls __down __on __me_

The words did not make much sense, but the tone, overwrought as it was, plucked at my undead heart. My finger froze, hovering above the power button on the remote, as my ears picked out bits of the song from behind the idiots blathering about how popular it had been several years ago. Somehow, it was like a musical group that had disbanded well before I'd met Sookie had taken my thoughts and feelings for her and made them into a popular song with nonsensical lyrics. It was perplexing, and before I knew it I was hearing the crunch of gravel as Sookie's terrible car drove around to the rear of the house. With barely a thought, I'd turned the television off and was rushing out to meet her, catching her as she ran up the stairs. My lover started to say something about not being out, but I cut her off, trying to tell her with a kiss how much I had missed her.

~~^v^~~

I watched Sookie leave the Queen's room, shoulders slumped and feet heavy with fatigue, and suddenly found myself anxious for business to be concluded so I could go check on her. By the time I got away, though, it was not long until dawn, and judging by the way the tiger's scent wafted around her door, the second set of lungs I heard inside her room did not belong to Gervaise's brainless pet. Even annoyed that she was not alone, and that her company was that useless brawler, there was little I could do but return to mine and Pam's room before dawn and attempt to calm myself. At the very least, I would be able to see her the next night at the ball, when she would no doubt look especially tantalizing.

When I arrived, Pam was still absent, and I realized that I had left my iPod in Louisiana; fortunately, hers was there, complete with a playlist marked 'soothing.' Knowing I would regret the decision, I lay back on the bed to find out what Pam considered soothing. I was not disappointed when that blasted Australian started singing the sort of angst-ridden ballad that would be a hit at Fangtasia for its moderate beat and pained lyrics.

_And__ feelings __of __aggression__ are __the __absence__ of __the __love__-__drug __in __your __veins  
In__ your __veins_

The absence of Sookie in my veins-and my bed-was certainly making me aggressive toward the tiger. Not that we would ever have been friendly, but that woman brought out strong emotions that I haven't felt in centuries, and I found it difficult to decide if I liked it. As long as she was with the tiger, though, I would be hard-pressed to say that I did. Moments like the bonding almost made it worth it, especially the feeling of her hot little mouth sucking at my chest, but they could not make up for the fact that I was only allowed that on sufferance, as an alternative to Andre. If only she didn't have such a strong moral code, I would remove the tiger by force, but that would no doubt drive her away. No, I would have to be more cunning, let her think she was coming to me by choice.

Just before dawn drew me away, I had the supremely comforting thought that perhaps she would realize that the tiger was no good for her, that she would come to me willingly without further machinations on my part. It was odd, to feel hope after so long.

~~^v^~~

With Sookie's affinity for dangerous situations of late, I was concerned and rather distracted from my work at Fangtasia, and her constant state of elevated tension and fear was playing havok with my own cool, not to mention making it difficult to determine if she was in any actual trouble. I felt a blip of panic perhaps an hour after sundown, but she seemed to calm herself fairly quickly, which was fortunate because Victor Madden had just showed up to cause me trouble in his sneaky, underhanded way. I was almost glad, because Pam had arranged a 90s theme night out in the bar, featuring music from the 17- 18- and 1990s, and I had no desire to sit out in the club and listen to it.

We'd just gotten through with the formalities of dancing around the business at hand when I felt the bond flare up, then immediately shut down. It was quiet, but there, like she'd fallen asleep; I knew she hadn't, though, as it was too sudden-my Sookie never fell asleep between one moment and the next-and that was no good. My suspicions were confirmed not a second later when my phone rang, the display showing Compton's name. I gestured to Madden that I needed to take it and answered the call.

Bill got right to the point, "Sookie has been taken. Two fairies disappeared with her just as I drove up."

I wanted to rage at him, curse him for losing my lover, my bonded, but I managed to restrain myself to the point where the fury in my voice was cold and controlled. "That is very bad news indeed. I have a call to make. Do you have any information that would be of use?"

"I am fairly certain it was Lochlan and Neave."

I cursed then, violently and in the old tongue, but kept it short because Victor was watching me quizzically. "Ready yourself, but await further word," I snapped, then hung up on him. Immediately, I was dialing Niall's line, which was answered by a female voice only lightly laced with panic.

"This is Eric Northman. I need you to get me Niall Brigant _right__ now_."

"He is not within range of the telephone, but I can contact him."

"Fine. _Fine__._ Tell him that Sookie has been taken from outside her home by Lochlan and Neave, and that the one who witnessed it is on scene. Tell him that, and tell him quickly." I hung up and was halfway to collecting my battle-sword from the back room (I kept a smaller blade in my office, since the room was too small for a proper sword) when three of Madden's people slammed me against the wall and bound me there with silver. I fought them as best I could, but they had the advantage and Victor had the power. I snarled at him, standing just outside my bite radius with a feline grin.

"What are you doing?"

"I cannot allow you to become involved in a war between the Fae, especially not for the sake of your _pet_."

"Sookie is not a pet-she is my bonded _wife_, and under protection of the King. Release me."

"I cannot. Do not attempt to send Pam, either; we have secured her."

"Did you not hear me? She is not just my human lover; she has the King's personal promise of protection."

"And when did he bestow that upon her pathetic self? Why would someone of His Majesty's power feel the need?"

"Because she saved his life, you useless bureaucrat. Now release me, so that I, at least, can carry out the King's wishes."

"Your lies are so thin. They do not befit a vampire of your station."

"They are not lies. She killed Sigebert when he attempted to enact revenge for Sophie-Anne's final death."

"Sigebert was killed the night of the coup."

"He was not."

"I grow tired of your lies. Be silent or I shall have your tongue burnt out."

It was then that I realized Sookie had come awake, because I could feel her terror and her pain cutting through the burning from the silver, her cries for help as the two torturous faeries cut into her glorious flesh. It was agony, and I wanted nothing more than to rip myself free of the silver and find her, to kill the beasts that were hurting _my__ Sookie_. I couldn't, though, any more than I could sit with her in the sunlight.

After a while, my thoughts because a loop, repeating one line over and over. I must have heard it as I passed through the club, and I was certain it was that Australian group again. Like it always was, at every significant event.

_Love__ will__ be__ the__ death__...__the__ death __of__ you__..._

~~^v^~~

"You cannot be serious. There is no way you are being haunted by a defunct pop group whose members are both still alive."

"Then perhaps it is another curse, of an altogether more subtle, and more maddening, nature."

"You are being ridiculous, like those humans who talk about how eerie Nostradamus's predictions are, or the stunning correlations between Lincoln and Kennedy's assassinations." My child fluttered her hands in the air to illustrate just how ridiculous such notions were. I leaned back in my chair and indicated that she was trying my patience with an eyebrow raised to the precise level for maximal sardonic effect.

"Then tell me, Pam, why is it that I am always hearing that overwrought ninny's voice when something significant happens with Sookie?"

"Always? Are you quite sure?" She planted her hands on my desk and leaned toward me. "Were they playing in the hospital after you made Bill confess? What about the night you and she were wed? The first time she drank your blood?"

"No..."

"Then you are not _always_ hearing his voice. You are not cursed."

"Perhaps it is a selective curse."

"Perhaps you are delusional."

I growled at her impertinence. "Mind your tongue, Pamela."

"I am merely concerned that you are drawing conclusions where there are none to draw, _Master_. Be content that you have Sookie and for once she is not running from you. Do not look for trouble."

I turned my attention to the papers in front of me, effectively dismissing her, and after several minutes she left in a huff, clicking her heels loudly on the concrete floor.

~~^v^~~

The situation was incredibly frustrating. Alexei was armed and on the loose, and I could not get my thoughts straight to do something about it. That was painful enough, the helpless lack of direction, but having Sookie there, demanding a plan and taking charge when I couldn't, even though she clearly was not doing well herself, made it far worse. It helped to have her here, helped me to focus, but it was not enough. All I could do was insist on going to Bon Temps with her to confront my psychopathic kin.

Sookie was driving fast-for a human-and the silence between us was thick and impenetrable. I couldn't think about what we were going to do when we arrived at her farmhouse, so my mind defaulted to searching for evidence of a soulful ballad with an upbeat pop tune. If there was ever a moment to be taunted by music, this was it, when I was at my weakest. I knew which one it would be, too-I'd listened to the entire catalogue until I knew every word, every note, every beat, and the song was there in my head, the chorus on loop as I strained to hear it on the air passing by the truck. And yet, it was maddeningly absent.

It wasn't until much later, as I was flying back to Shreveport, that I realized that I hadn't heard the song, except in my mind. It was still there, repeating the chorus, that infuriatingly accurate chorus. On the whole, though, it was promising. Surely a curse could not resist such an obvious target?

The cleaners were already there when I touched down at the house, and Pam had managed to get herself and Jason into one of the bedrooms that hadn't been sullied, keeping out of the way while they worked. My child, sipping at a True Blood in a corner while he snored lightly on the bed, quirked an eyebrow at me as I entered.

"You're looking well. Freedom suits you."

"I ate the fairy that killed Ocella."

If Pam was surprised at who had been responsible for my maker's final death, she did not look it, merely responding, "Yes, I imagine that would rather improve matters." She paused, a familiar mischievous glint in her eye. "Tell me, which Savage Garden tune was it this time?"

"None."

"None? Well, then, that would mean that I was ri-"

"Enough, Pamela." I could see her smirking into her bottle as I left to check on the cleaners' progress and to get started on the arrangements, but I let it pass.

Everything was ruined, though, when I stepped into the living room. One of the cleaners, a very young vampire, was singing quietly to herself as she scrubbed at the stain Bobby Burnham had left on the carpet.

_I__ might__ need__ you__ to __make __the __first __stand  
'__Cause t__onight__ I__'__m__ finding__ it __hard__ to __be __your __man

* * *

_

For the curious, the song listing is as follows (all songs by Savage Garden; * indicates the eponymous 1997 album, ** the 1999 follow-up, Affirmation):

Dead Until Dark, Fangtasia scene - I Want You*  
Living Dead in Dallas, post-orgy - Carry On Dancing*  
Club Dead, in the Lincoln - Chained to You**  
Dead to the World, Sookie's house - Truly Madly Deeply*  
All Together Dead, powwow in the Queen's room - Gunning Down Romance**  
Dead and Gone, stuck at Fangtasia - Tears of Pearls*  
Dead in the Family, dealing with Alexei - Hold Me**

The titular song, The Best Thing, can be found on Affirmation.


End file.
